


no love like your love

by kxtsukiyuri



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Blood Play, Heavy Masochism, M/M, S&M, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 05:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18045992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kxtsukiyuri/pseuds/kxtsukiyuri
Summary: i’d be appalled if i saw you ever try to be a sainti wouldn’t fall for someone i thought couldn’t misbehave———Taekwoon needs the kind of love only Wonsik can give him.





	no love like your love

**Author's Note:**

> FOR REAL guys pls read the tags i don’t want anyone getting squicked out by this bc it’s like. a little gratuitous dhdjdhdj

It’s not usual for angels to come and roam among the racks. More often than not, the screams of the tortured tugged too hard at their heartstrings, sending them into fits of emotion that were entirely unfitting for celestial beings and caused unbelievable destruction. However, as Taekwoon walks through this barren land of fire and brimstone, the screams are nothing more than a background hum, almost a comfort. He knows what he’s here for, _who_ he’s here for, and that pushes him through.

 

  Taekwoon is a terrifying creature. He towers above even the most powerful of demons and exudes a holy light that burns whoever touches it into nothing more than a pile of ash. His halo is blinding, the multiple wings sprouting from his back at some of the oddest angles almost grotesque, and his eyes are whited out, seeming to be replaced by that same light… He’s allowed a wide berth when he ventures down here.

 

  He walks with a purpose from the entrance, up countless mountains and through valleys that seem to never end until he gets to the main hub of activity around the base of the last mountain he has to climb. The demons around there know him by now, and offer smiles and teasing jabs at his reasons for his adventures. Taekwoon often gives them literal burning looks in response, but they laugh and play it off. Especially that demon with the wide shoulders and twinkling eyes. Taekwoon’s not sure what he’s playing at, but he teases more than the others and makes ridiculously forward remarks. It’s strange.

 

  But no matter. Taekwoon ascends to the highest point of the mountain, arriving at a grand villa carved into the face of the rock. He knocks three times on the stone door, and it slides open easily, allowing him access. As he steps through, walking down the long hall to the throne room, his form shrinks and compacts, until he has the size and appearance of your average human with only one set of wings, nearly powerless. It’s a delicious transformation, one that makes him shiver each time. The room is almost always completely empty when he arrives, so he seats himself at the base of the throne on his knees, sighing softly and closing his eyes as he settles in to wait for as long as necessary.  

 

  He doesn’t know how much time has passed until he hears the scrape of stone against itself, the sign of the door in the back of the room opening. The dull thud of footsteps echoes in his ears as someone — he knows who — walks into the room and over to the throne. He keeps his eyes closed and his head bowed, still kneeling as the new visitor seats themself with a soft sigh.

 

  “Taekwoon,” comes a quiet voice, and he finally opens his eyes, looking up to meet the gaze of his beloved.

 

  The prince of Hell, known throughout the realms only as Ravi, a terrifying being with the power to raze continents. He’s cold, intimidating, but almost lazy with his power, like a cat who knows he runs the household. Only Taekwoon knows his true name, can reduce him to his core and turn him soft and protective. It’s not like he ever uses it in his presence, but he feels special to know it.

 

  “Master,” he replies quietly, already feeling a spark of excitement kick up his spine. It seems like Ravi — no, Wonsik, _Master —_ has decided to stay mostly human sized today, still a little bigger than Taekwoon just by virtue of being in his own land. Wonsik smiles, crooking his finger to beckon Taekwoon closer. The angel shuffles over to kneel between Wonsik’s parted legs, cheeks a little warm.

 

  “You look pretty today, dearest,” Wonsik says softly, carding a hand through Taekwoon’s hair. Taekwoon’s eyes flutter shut again at the gentle touch, and he presses against Wonsik’s hand with a pleased noise. Wonsik laughs, the sound deep and comforting. He pulls Taekwoon up into his lap, smoothing his hands down his sides.

 

  “We didn’t arrange a meeting today. Did my little bird need something from me?” Taekwoon opens his eyes, but keeps them cast down, hands resting on the arms of the throne.

 

  “I… would like my wings groomed. By you. Master.” It seems like it’s taking every ounce of bravery to push the words out, and Wonsik tips Taekwoon’s head up, making the angel look at him.

 

  “Why so shy, birdie? Do you think I’d refuse you?” Taekwoon doesn’t answer, biting his lip as his gaze flits to the side. Wonsik tuts, gently tapping Taekwoon’s cheek so he looks forward again.

 

  “I would never turn you down for anything, birdie. You should know that by now.” Taekwoon nods, then takes the initiative to turn in Wonsik’s lap, shaking his wings out so they’re easier to groom. He swallows heavily when he feels Wonsik’s hand tracing along the bony frame, the fluff near his shoulder. He rubs gently near the joints where feather meets skin, making Taekwoon sigh softly as his muscles relax.

 

  Before long, Wonsik finally runs his hand through the feathers, the sensation making Taekwoon shiver and bite back a whine. Wonsik keeps his touch gentle, lovingly straightening the feathers and humming softly, his free hand resting on Taekwoon’s thigh.

 

  “Does it feel nice, birdie?” He asks, hand slowing a little. Taekwoon nods, a little breathless.

 

  “Yes… yes, master. Feels wonderful.” Wonsik smiles, continuing in his task. He moves to the other wing after a bit, but once he does, Taekwoon whines and jerks unexpectedly, causing him to pull a feather out. Taekwoon gives a surprised cry, hands tightening their grip on the throne’s arms. Wonsik immediately starts to fret, rubbing Taekwoon’s arms and shushing him gently, apologizing profusely.

 

  “Taekwoon, are you —“

 

  “M-master…” Taekwoon turns to look back at Wonsik, cheeks flushed and lips bitten pink. “Do it again. Please.”

 

  Wonsik’s breath catches in his chest, but he wordlessly reaches over to pluck out another feather, reveling in the wounded noise Taekwoon makes, his face scrunched in pleasured pain. Wonsik shakes off his shock, quickly realizing that this has started to transition into something a little more than grooming.

 

  “Face forward,” he says firmly, Taekwoon following without protest. He sucks in a sharp breath when Wonsik pulls out another feather, then another, then another.

 

  “What kind of angel are you?” Wonsik asks with a bit of a sneer. Taekwoon opens his mouth to reply, but any words he would have said turn into a moan when Wonsik grabs a few feathers and tugs.

 

  “Asking the prince of Hell to pull out your feathers. Have you any shame?” Another feather. Another whimper. Taekwoon shifts uncomfortably, shuddering when he feels Wonsik’s hard length pressing against him. Taekwoon clenches his hands into fists, resisting the urge to touch himself. Wonsik moves the hand on Taekwoon’s thigh to his waist, holding on firmly. Taekwoon arches a little, breathing heavy as he anticipates the next burst of pain.

 

  What he doesn’t anticipate is for Wonsik’s hand to close around a handful of feathers, giving Taekwoon half a second to process what’s about to happen before it does. He shrieks and thrashes as Wonsik yanks out the handful of feathers, held fast by Wonsik’s grip on his waist. A trickle of blood drips down the feather closest to where Wonsik pulled, and he follows it with his fingertip back up to the frame of Taekwoon’s wing, which he then holds onto instead of his waist.

 

  “A-ahh, please, please, Master —“ Taekwoon whines out, then shouts again at another handful of feathers gone, and would have jerked off Wonsik’s lap if not for Wonsik holding his wing tight enough to bruise the delicate skin beneath the fluffy down feathers.

 

  “You’re not even asking,” Wonsik corrects, voice dripping with contempt. “You’re begging. Pleading to be used and violated like this.” He presses in close against Taekwoon’s back, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

 

  “Does it excite you, _Leo_?” Wonsik asks, using the name Taekwoon goes by back home. Taekwoon shudders and moans, barely able to respond.

 

  “Ye-es — yes, yes, Master, yes, please…” Wonsik laughs, deep and low in his chest, and Taekwoon keens, wriggling in his lap and grabbing tightly onto the arms of the throne. Wonsik slaps his thigh, pulling another high noise from him.

 

  “Stop moving,” he says quietly, threatening. Taekwoon gulps and stays still, trying to regulate his breathing. Wonsik runs a hand through his hair before grabbing onto his wing again and tearing out another handful of feathers. Taekwoon’s scream of pain and shock is too high to even be heard by your average human or lower rank demon, and Wonsik winces a little.

 

  “Am I going to have to gag you too? Or do you like bothering everyone in my kingdom with your whorish wailing?” Taekwoon is shaking like a leaf, trying so desperately to keep from crying out again when Wonsik runs a fingertip over the small gash in his skin left behind from the forceful tugging. Hot tears track down his cheeks, and he shakes his head adamantly, letting out a gasping sob.

 

  “N-no, no, Master, no —“

 

  “Then shut _up,_ ” Wonsik’s hand tightens its grip on Taekwoon’s wing. “And take what you asked for.” Taekwoon swallows hard and nods after a moment, biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood when Wonsik yanks out more feathers.

 

  “Disgusting. You’re so easy, so weak. If only your god knew where you were right now.” Wonsik’s voice is quiet, his words piercing deep into Taekwoon’s psyche. Taekwoon nods slightly, making Wonsik laugh.

 

  “Do you want them to know? Want them to see their most powerful angel reduced to a sobbing, bloody mess?” More feathers gone. A shudder runs through Taekwoon’s body. He feels the tip of a claw running down his back and gasps when it punctures his skin, tears falling down his cheeks when Wonsik pulls down just the slightest.

 

  “Nnh — s-so — so m-much, please, _please_ , I’m g-going to —“

 

  “Going to what?” Wonsik cuts off his pleading, dragging his claw down farther. Taekwoon lets out a broken sob at the feeling of blood running down his back, wetting his and Wonsik’s robes and pooling obscenely where his body meets Wonsik’s lap. He jerks in surprise when some more feathers are yanked out, and the movement pushes the claw deeper into his body.

 

  “What are you going to do, my little toy?” Taekwoon takes in a shaking breath, more tears falling as pain shoots through his body.

 

  “I-I — please, _can_ I, can I c-come, please, Master?”

 

  “Can’t believe you’re getting off to this,” Wonsik murmurs in lieu of a reply. Taekwoon screams again as he feels another claw press through his skin, the sound weak and broken. “You’re pathetic. Begging me to come while I’m shredding you to pieces.” Taekwoon gives a heaving sob, his thighs straining as he tries not to grind his hips back against Wonsik.

 

  “M-Master… Master, Master, plea-ease —“ He cuts himself off, sensations of pain and pleasure washing over him like violent ocean waves and forcing a deep moan from his chest. Wonsik removes his claws and spreads Takekwoon’s legs farther apart, almost propping them on the arms of the thron, before sliding his hand around to Taekwoon’s front, slipping it under the angel’s robes and between his folds, fingers easily sliding into his entrance. Taekwoon gasps, hips moving of their own accord into Wonsik’s hand, slick and warm with his own blood. All it takes is a few pumps of his fingers, a few swipes over his clit, before Taekwoon is arching away from Wonsik’s chest and coming so hard his vision goes blurry. When he comes back into himself, the blood and gashes are gone, his wings lush and full, and his robes spotless, Wonsik’s hands gently rubbing his shoulders. He still feels like his nervous system was punched with stimulation, so he reclines, resting against Wonsik’s chest.

 

  “Are you all right, birdie?” Taekwoon can hear the fond smile in his master’s voice, and he makes a noise of assent, his throat sore and scratchy.

 

  “My pretty little thing. Someday I should leave you a mess for longer, make you look at yourself. You were beyond gorgeous.” Wonsik’s voice is low, and Taekwoon can feel the rumbling where his back is pressed to Wonsik’s chest. He whines softly, lightly smacking Wonsik’s forearm.

 

  “Not so soon, please,” he mumbles, twisting to give Wonsik what he hopes is a disapproving look. Wonsik laughs quietly, gently pressing a kiss to Taekwoon’s lips.

 

  “So that’s a yes to that idea?” Taekwoon pulls back and bites his lip, nodding a bit. Wonsik grins, kissing him again.

 

  “Perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments, questions and feedback are appreciated and encouraged ^v^


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